Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

That evening, Richard arrived at the Army and Navy Club. The waiter in the lobby recognized him, bowed slightly, and took his coat and hat from him.

He didn't linger on the first floor, but went straight up to the second floor.

The door to the smoking room was ajar. In the corner, Mr. Nose sat in a chair, holding a copy of The Times in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other.

He heard footsteps and his eyes slowly turned toward the doorway.

Richard walked to the bar, ordered himself a whiskey, the amber liquid shimmering warmly under the light. He took his glass and sat down in the chair next to Mr. Nose.

Mr. Nose pressed down on the front edge of the newspaper with his index finger and glanced at him.

"A rare guest," his voice rang out clearly in the quiet smoking room, "Go ahead, you must have something important to tell me."

"You know you took Benjamin's ledger." Richard took a sip of whiskey. "I need it."

He let out a sigh of relief through his large nose, then reached into his coat and pulled a black-covered notebook from the inside pocket of his vest, tossing it casually onto the table.

"When did you find it?" Mr. Nose asked.

Richard took the ledger: "When we first went into Benjamin's house, I didn't tell you where the body was; you went straight up to the second floor."

"Most of the study is on the second floor," Mr. Nose said, tilting his head.

"Perhaps," Richard nodded, "but Benjamin was already warned."

"What warning?"

“The person who bribed him warned him to use his daughter.” Richard put down his whiskey glass. “That reminds me of another man, someone who also liked to use ‘warnings’ to get his way.”

Mr. Nose squinted.

"It was you," Richard said. "You've been using Benjamin as a customs informant, maybe for a while now, maybe when you overheard your Fennia informant reporting that an arms deal was in the works. You were the one who sent Benjamin to customs that night. Whatever you promised him, it got him killed."

The atmosphere between the two men turned cold. Mr. Nose folded the newspaper, picked up the nearly burnt-out cigarette, took one last drag, and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

"Benjamin was indeed my mole in the port," he finally said. "I also knew he was working for the Prussians. But it was always just harmless stuff—commercial orders, shipping routes, arrival schedules. Half-truths, easy to fool."

"Until this time, they decided to arm Fennia," Richard said.

"You're mostly right." He paused, "but there's one thing you're wrong about: it wasn't me who went to Benjamin, it was him who came to me."

Richard paused for a moment, then asked, "He came to see you?"

"He came to me asking for shelter for his children and his ex-wife who lives in Camberwell," Mr. Nose said. "I promised him that as long as he continued to provide me with information, I could guarantee the safety of his ex-wife and children."

"What intelligence?"

"He can take a look at the person picking up the goods for me," Mr. Nose straightened his back. "No need to stop him, just give a general description, his height, weight, and any other characteristics, that's enough."

"Then he went, but never came back," Richard continued.

"Yes," Mr. Nose raised his glass, as if in a salute, and downed the rest of his port in one gulp. "What a pity."

A surge of heat rose in Richard's chest, because although Mr. Nose said it was a pity, there was not a trace of remorse on his face.

"Is that all you have to say?" Richard gripped his whiskey glass tightly. "Just one 'What a pity'? A child has lost his father, a woman has lost a husband who still cared for her, and all you say is 'What a pity'?"

Mr. Nose crossed his hands on his knees, a posture Richard was very familiar with. It was the look of a company boss sitting in his office after listening to his subordinates report bad news that could not be changed.

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Mr. Brian, you must understand that this is counterintelligence between nations. I can only grant asylum to anyone after receiving valid information. Benjamin knew the risks, and he agreed.”

Richard was speechless. He picked up the whiskey and drank it all in one gulp. The liquor did not take away the heat; instead, it made it even stronger.

He knew that discussing morality with this kind of person would be pointless. Mr. Nose wasn't simply a good or bad person; he was a bureaucrat. For him, "right" and "necessary" were worlds apart. Unfortunately, helping Benjamin get away was right, but unnecessary.

"So, have you obtained any useful information?" Richard forced himself to suppress his emotions. "Where is Fenia going to attack?"

Mr. Nose smiled, as if Richard had finally begun to speak his language.

"You'll like this answer, Greenwood's factory," he said.

Upon hearing this, Richard unconsciously gripped the hem of his shirt, and a plan quickly took shape in his mind.

"Arrange for me to meet with the leaders of Fennia," Richard said. "Just a few words will do."

Mr. Nose chuckled and asked helplessly, "What makes you think the leader of Fennia would want to see you?"

"Because he knows me," Richard answered confidently, "and he knows what kind of person I am; I have ways to get them to achieve their goals without shedding blood."

"No bleeding?" Mr. Nose frowned, as if he disliked the word.

"That's right, no bleeding."

Mr. Nose took a new cigarette out of his vest pocket, lit it in his mouth, and the flame flickered on his fingertips, illuminating half of his face.

"Then why should I give up the achievements I've already gained?" Smoke drifted from between his lips.

"Because the Prussian spy who killed Benjamin will also be involved in this uprising, and you can't control him. You don't even know what he looks like, but I do."

Richard took a breath and gave Mr. Nose enough time to think.

"I'll catch him for you, alive," Richard continued. "His value far exceeds preventing a reckless riot."

Mr. Nose fell silent. Faint sounds of knives and forks and low conversations drifted from the restaurant downstairs, separated by the thick floorboards, like a barrier between two worlds.

He held the cigarette between his teeth, the flames slowly burning the tobacco, making it grow darker and darker until it turned to ash and fell onto the carpet.

Then he nodded slightly.

"Wait for news," he said.

Richard stood up, the ledger pressed against his chest, the edges of the paper digging into his shirt. He didn't say thank you; there was nothing to thank him for. He turned and walked out of the smoking room.

Mr. Nose picked up the newspaper again, unfolded it, and turned to the page he had just been reading.

The smoke slowly dissipated in the gaslight, and his gaze fell on the newspaper, but he didn't read a single word.